The creatures of snow touched a locked door – it was not you


I somehow manage to warm myself on his
damp, chilled bones. He has coiled blossom and must

nestle beside a knot
all happening at once

palms erasing prints of past lovers
after all – you’re a jasmine poet, you won’t harm your

other (better) girl by making love to me. A black stake
pushes into almost dawn, the blonde mansion at her 

bull-ish desk remains very
very still (I’m waiting       & why?). Plum shadows
 
calm dirty plates & beach pebbles scowl
at the cat. Burrowing into a new felt chest

elbow poised above a barren window, candlelight
remembers the dead man  – a steel vault of tears – used and 

shirtless inside warm, greek arms busy
peeling the membrane  from a honey jar.  Makes a man

weep to watch his little lady pushing
two chairs together by the clementine pit

 

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Blossom Hibbert

*christopher middleton – five psalms of common man

 

 

 

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